


Ripped

by druscilla



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Drabble, M/M, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druscilla/pseuds/druscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Pete is mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripped

Patrick gasped when he stepped into the room. He was only gone for ten minutes. He couldn’t believe this was physically possible. He blindly set the sodas he grabbed on the table as he passed it, his eyes wide behind his glasses and his mouth open slightly in shock.

Pete was sitting in the middle of the floor and he looked angry. Patrick couldn’t imagine any other emotion would have lead him to rip every last page out of the bible from the nightstand drawer. The room was littered with white pages and Pete’s chest was heaving as he drew breath, his eyes narrowed. He hadn’t looked at Patrick.

“Pete?” the younger boy whispered. If he took another step forward, he would be stepping on the words.

“Don’t make it into a big deal,” he growled, still not meeting Patrick’s eyes.

“You ripped up the Bible!”

“You’re an Atheist!” Pete snapped, finally lifting his chin. There was a red line down his cheek, probably from accidentally scratching himself. “It’s just lies. I’m sick of lies. So I have to sleep with lies? Can’t I go to   
sleep?”

Pete’s nails scraped down his arm and Patrick pushed his trepidation aside to hurry through the papers–sending several flying–and grab Pete’s hand, stopping the new red mark in its tracks. The older boy looked almost surprised to see him.

“You can go to sleep,” Patrick whispered. “We can both go to sleep. But stop hurting yourself.”

Pete blinked once. “I’m not hurting myself.”

The younger gestured at his arm and the other boy seemed almost surprised at the lines he saw there. “I didn’t do that.”

Patrick’s mind was a panicked blur. “You just did that!”

There was a head shake and a mean laugh. “You’re so stupid, Patrick.” And then Pete pushed himself up with that ugly angry look on his face and laid down in the bed, pulling the covers up to his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

The younger boy stood there for a moment, blinking hard against the wetness in his eyes and trying to remind himself that Pete didn’t mean any of it. He was just sick. He was tired. The sleeping pills were probably kicking in too hard. He fought back the first sob and wiped at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

Pete was already asleep. Patrick could tell by his breathing. He tugged the other boy’s shoes off and dropped them on the floor, climbing into the empty bed closest to the window. He tossed and turned all night, cold even though the thermostat was set perfectly. In the morning he woke up with Pete pressed to his back.

“I don’t remember anything,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Did I do that?”

Patrick assumed he was referring to the Bible. “Yeah. While I was getting drinks.”

“Did we fight?”

“Not really.”

“Was I mean?”

Patrick sighed. “Only a little.”

Pete gave a small whimper and buried his face in Patrick’s hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Whatever it was.” The younger boy felt a shudder and he knew Pete was crying.

“Baby, don’t,” he whispered, not turning, knowing Pete would just duck his head down and try to hide it. “I know you didn’t. You were just tired.”

“I’m shit.”

“No. You feel like shit. There’s a difference.”

Pete sniffled. “You still love me?”

Patrick’s hand blindly fumbled until it managed to awkwardly stroke Pete’s hair. “I’ll never stop.”


End file.
